The Prank War
by 2DaughtersOfAthena
Summary: AU, Magical oneshot. A story of Babbling Beverage, blue hair, and an abundance of glitter.


**Ravenclaw for the House Competition. Yet another Fremione fic! They were just the active ones for this week. I promise, another week and I can send out a Muggledom fic for y'all. Enjoy!**

 **Definitely AU.**

 **House: Ravenclaw**

 **Category: Short**

 **Prompt: "It's always a competition with you, isn't it?**

 **W/C: 2967**

 **0-0-0-0**

"Morning, George…" My voice trails off, seeing his usually-pale complexion turned practically Oompa-Loompa with what looks like spray tan. "Everything alright?" I ask, more curious than alarmed, despite the fact that his skin actually matches the colour of his hair - which would normally be incredibly startling.

"All good, Hermione. Fred still in bed?" he asks, rummaging in his pockets for something.

"Just about," I reply, still completely confused.

"Good, good," he answers, seeming distracted. "Aha!" George pulls out a small vial from the inside of his jacket pocket, with something of vivid purple swirling ominously inside. Without batting an eye, he makes a cup of tea and tips the entirety of the purple liquid into it, leaving it on the side, with me staring at him.

"Um…"

"See you later, Hermione!" George shouts as he runs back out of the apartment and downstairs to the store. I watch the door as it closes, thinking _this cannot be good_.

"I'm not getting involved," I promise myself in a mutter, as Fred slinks out of the bedroom, looking tired but cheerful as ever. "Morning."

"Morning," Fred yawns, his t-shirt rising just above the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. I give him a quick peck on the cheek and head to the bathroom to clean my teeth, refusing to say a thing about the drink – because I'm not getting involved. Definitely not going to get – " _Ahhhh!"_

"Fred!" I shout, rushing back, thinking the worst and… _What_? Nothing of the Death Eater calibre greets me in the kitchen. Instead, Fred's legs are wobbling as though they have turned to jelly, dancing the most horrendous jazz-tap I have seen in my life. In his inability to stay upright, he's laughing. Classic Weasley Twin, laughing at whatever the hell is going on today.

When the wobbles subside, and Fred has stopped laughing, he turns to me and announces,

"Jelly Leg Juice! Bloody brilliant! The game is afoot!"

Then he kisses me on the cheek and disappears to get dressed.

A Prank War. _That's what this is_. I am in the bloody, brutal middle of it. _Great._

The rest of my day is fairly uneventful. However, what waits for me back home seems to be far worse. George is cooking, which is more worrying than anything else which has happened today – including a parliament of angry owls flocking towards me during my lunch break. Worrying because George is not the greatest cook in the world.

One moment and George is making a sauce of ketchup and mayonnaise (aplty named "pink stuff" by him, whereas its real name is Thousand Island sauce), and the next the bottles explodes in a crude noise, and we are both wearing the condiments. All in one fell swoop. George is laughing, but I am sticky and know that Fred is to blame.

"Ah Fred and his food pranks. Classic!" George shouts, grinning broadly as if his brother is simply the funniest man on the planet, and that this is exactly like him. Yet, I have been living with him for just about two months and have not experienced this level of close-knit pranking in all of my life. Sure, there are the occasional jibes – like one morning when George thought it was funny to convince me they had a ghost by moving the furniture late at night for a week.

"I don't want to be involved in this," I tell George, flicking ketchup at him and going to get in the shower.

"Too late!" he calls after me.

 _Like hell it is._

I wake up covered in slime. Fred isn't snoring next to me, so I know that he's awake. I gingerly move his arm from across my waist and sit up, groaning in horror. My nightmare of ketchup and mayonnaise splattering last night was apparently just the beginning of another nightmare. _Why_ is there green paint in the bed?

"This wasn't me," Fred quips with a grin when I swipe a large oozing topping of paint from my arms, sitting up slowly in the gloopy liquid. This is ridiculous. Completely, utterly ridiculous. But what else can I expect from the troublesome twosome? "However, I have the _perfect_ way to get back at him," Fred continues, plotting his next move with a near-psychopathic smile adorning his features. He shakes some of the paint out of his hair, like a dog.

"How long do these usually go on for?" I ask him, getting out of bed and turning to the bedsheets with my wand. " _Tergeo!_ " The paint siphons itself away into nothing, but unfortunately does not clear itself from the pair of us. Fred looks like the Green Giant, so I must look like a gremlin with my shorter height.

"No idea. Isn't that the fun of it?" Fred climbs over the cleared bed to get to the bathroom. He runs a hot tap and places one of the purple towels beneath it, waiting for the water to soak into it. I roll my eyes as he advances, wiping away some of the paint from my face as he laughs. I'm glad he's having fun, at least. Even though I am probably going to be tinged green for the next week of my life.

Just then, as he moves to wipe away more, he laughs out loud in one sharp bark.

"Two pranks in one!"

" _What?_ " I ask, staring at him.

He wipes the towel down my face, in a ruse of being the good boyfriend. Instantly, I smell chocolate, and the once-warm water is sticky and cold.

"Fred! Chocolate. That is so gross!" I laugh, trying to shimmy away from Fred's towel.

George emerges from his bedroom dressed in an outfit of sequins by the time eight-fifty rolls around. He salutes at his brother, explaining that all of his clothes have been transformed into glitter masterpieces. Fred laughs with his brother, who is honestly wearing the sequin and glitter combination with more pride than embarrassment. After a brief goodbye, they take the stairs down to the store two at a time, leaping the bottom three.

Another day over, I do not sleep easily. Fred comes to bed with the hilariously wrong blue hair. I don't even bother asking about it, but swear I can hear George's evil laughter in my head - it must have something to do with him. Instead of talking about it, I smile and attempt sleep, preparing for another day of data analysis at work and being on my toes for the pranking. I don't have to be in work until eleven, so I take the liberty of having the apartment to myself for a while. I drift in and out of tiredness, letting the boys get up before me and do their morning pranking.

I make scrambled eggs for breakfast, before taking a long showing and exulting in the hot water, plus knowing that I can stay clean and out of the way of any chocolate-covered towels, paint in beds, or unintentional spray tan. Knowing that I am safe for a while.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

My hair. My hair is blue. Blue. _Blue!_

"Love the hair, Hermione!" Fred hollers as I half-blur past them on my way out of the door. I glower at the pair of them. "You look like a mermaid."

"Don't talk to me. Either of you."

They almost look surprised. Good. I'm mad now, and this has to stop. I do not want to be involved.

Three days later. A spritely and charming Sunday morning. Fred rolls over in bed, pressing his warm cheek against my shoulder and groaning with tiredness. He stretches out, pushing his arms over my face in teasing, lifting the duvet up from us as his legs swing towards the ceiling. I smile at him, tired but happy. With his blue hair, and my blue hair we do look quite the pair. Donning a dressing gown on my way out, and confident that George has left to get started on stock early, I kiss Fred lightly on the forehead and head out to the kitchen.

I swear very loudly.

"Oh my _GOD_!" I shout, to follow the horrendous swear I just expelled. I wrap the dressing gown tighter around my too-bare body. This is embarrassing. "Professor Lupin, what… What are you doing here?"

"Not like you to use such horrible language, Hermione," Lupin comments, dipping his teabag back into the mug nonchalantly, as if I am not coming from Fred's bedroom. And as if I am dressed completely normally.

"I live with the twins, what do you expect? Also, what are you doing here?"

He winks and says, "I'm not Lupin."

Quicker than he can protest, my wand is out and pressed against his stubbled throat, a lit spark shuddering through me. A spark of fear.

"Who the heck are you and what do you want?" I demand, thrown back to the days of Death Eaters at every turn, and having to be constantly on my guard, just in case there was someone out of sorts. An intruder. Terror appears to ripple through the intruder. I can see it in his traitorous eyes.

"Hermione, jeez," he mutters, coughing against the pressure on his neck. "It's me; George!"

"Prove it!"

"Alright, we live together. You and Fred are together – I'm not scrambling, I swear!" he interjects as my wand presses harder against him. "Security question, right. I have a massive crush on Angelina. I told you because Fred would laugh."

"Not good enough!" I snarl.

"Okay, okay!" He pauses to think. "In my seventh year, you forced me to make hats with you. It was something like mid-July. I didn't tell anyone because I was so embarrassed, and because I actually enjoyed it."

I nod, satisfied, and pull back my wand, apologising. "Polyjuice potion. Fred must have slipped me some. Very good prank, Freddie!" George calls.

"Thanks, Remus!" Fred's muffled voice shouts back.

"Are you still helping today?" George asks me, sounding as tired as Lupin.

"Guess so," I answer, still completely shocked. George pats me on the shoulder, grinning. It's very disturbing.

"See you down there."

Honestly, the strangest part about the whole of the Order coming to help in the store today is the presence of more than one Remus Lupin for four hours (how Fred managed to expand the timespan of the potion, I have no idea). The second strangest is Ron asking me why my hair is blue. Apparently, I forgot to mention to him and Harry about the completely bonkers and intense prank war in which I am Switzerland. Oddly, the third strangest thing is whatever is going on with Fred. Every time he moves to pick something up, it leaps away from him.

"Bloody – _Accio_!" Fred curses in frustration. The box of cards gets so far – about a metre – before halting in mid-air, as if he is surrounded by a force field.

In my very good peripheral vision, I see one of the Lupins in hysterical laughter, clutching onto a block of shelves to stabilise himself. It being completely out of character for Lupin to laugh quite so freely, I figure that it must be George. My suspicions are proved correct when this Remus sprouts bright orange hair not ten minutes later, as I desperately try to pass Fred a drink. Each of us having grown more frustrated as the efforts went on, the drink eventually spills over me. Much to both of our annoyances.

Later, when the spell wears off, I see Fred lacing George's glass of water before his date with Angelina. Why are they still drinking things which are left out in the open? Surely, they know this is a bad idea by now? Yet, I don't say a word, and simply slink off to bed.

Morning arrives with shouting from the twins.

A vicious fight. Unusual.

"Seriously, I was on a _date_!" George yells. "And you put Babbling Beverage in my _drink_? Why?"

"You're actually mad at me? This is a _prank war_ , Georgie. What did you expect? A night off?" Fred laughs, as if George is joking in being kind of incensed right now. I cringe.

"I expected you to be a decent brother. Merlin's Beard, Fred." I open the door a crack to see them both several yards apart, George moving quickly towards the door for escape. "This was important to me."

 _Ouch._

I'm not sure whether to open the door and reveal myself or let Fred get angry at the pots and pans instead. Turns out I am very good at both, letting him send a few things flying across the room, then taking my chance to halt him.

"Why doesn't he get it?" he asks me. "I thought we were having fun, messing up each other's lives a little bit. For a joke, you know?"

I pause, thinking.

"I understand it from both sides." At which point he glares at me rather ferociously. "He likes Angelina a lot. He doesn't want to ruin it before it's even started."

Fred sighs heavily and swings his body onto the sofa at the far side of the room. It makes a soft squishing noise under his weight, puffing out a single bubble of pink dust. I watch him for a moment, considering what to tell him. He's both in the wrong, and also not. It is a prank war, but maybe this is just a bit too far? Yet, this isn't exactly something George can't come back from.

"I thought we were just messing about," Fred objects. "And now he's mad – and in the middle of a prank war."

Prank war. Is that seriously what all of this about? Merlin's Beard, these boys are idiots.

"He's going to get me back in a big way, I can feel it…" he tails off.

"Why does it have to be a competition?" I ask, a little incredulous, standing up straight and folding my arms. Fred's head spins around to stare at me in confusion. It's understandable. Although we have had these moments of disagreement, I've not called him out on something quite like this.

"It doesn't have to be," he protests, slowly. This is how I know he's annoyed.

"But it is?"

"Well, yeah!" He stands up too, red-faced. Between us, the sofa has turned into a no-mans-land. "You don't get it. You don't have siblings, Hermione."

"It's always a competition with you, isn't it? I can do this, I can do that, I have this, you don't, I know this, you don't." I mimic his voice and laugh bitterly. "Fred, I'm exhausted. You're fun, I get it! You have an exciting job, I get it! You have lots of really fun siblings, I get it! I just don't get why you let it get so out of hand, and I'm in the middle of it. I didn't want to be involved; I don't want to be involved."

"Hermione – "

I slam the door on my way out.

The next day, George slips Fred some amortentia, causing him to fall in love with someone else before Ginny shoves the antidote down his throat. I'm fairly certain she tells me it was a very confused Colin Creevey, but I'm not paying that much attention at this point. By that time, I've taken a rucksack of my essentials to my parents' house and definitely not explaining why. I don't feel like being around the twins tonight. This is just taking it too far.

Four, five, six days go past. I go to work like normal, eat lunch with Harry and Ron like we have done since we were eleven. On the seventh day of my very long week, I walk into the store again, finally a brunette again, to find the boys packing away stock in separate aisles. I go to George first, a little afraid of talking to Fred after the other day. Given that I haven't spoken to him in a week, it might be awkward. You know?

"Are you two done with the pranks?" I ask in a whisper. George slides the box of fizzing chocolate sweets into the spot on the third row and turns around to face me.

"Yeah, we are. Sorry." He smiles half-heartedly. "He actually fixed things with Angelina for me as well – she was pretty annoyed with a few of the things I said."

"That's nice," I comment, laughing quietly.

"You should talk to him." Only 70% convinced, I nod. Then I say my brief goodbye to George, stepping down three aisles to get to Fred, who is sorting through a mess of cards and rubber chickens – both of the Muggle and Magical kind. I smile, remembering my father bringing home a rubber chicken once, though not for any particular reason – he just thought it was amusing.

"Fred?"

He spins around. Then a smile of relief breaks over his face.

"Hermione. I am so sorry. Not everything is a competition, I swear," he rushes out. "No more messing with other people's lives. I get it now."

"Okay," I murmur. Simply glad to see him than to be worried about the ethos of his pranking.

He coughs and rolls his shoulder, laughing nervously. "I didn't mean for it to get out of hand like that. It's just, one-upping each other, you know? George and I sorted it out, and I wanted to tell you earlier - like, days ago - but Angelina told me I had to wait. Who knows, I might have pranked you as an apology - I love you," he blurts.

Eyebrows raised, mouth open. He looks surprised. I feel surprised.

"I love you too, Freddie!" George yells.

"I love you, Fred," I murmur. "Now, let me help too."

 **0-0-0-0**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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